


Knowing Me Knowing You

by weardodo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, implied Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weardodo/pseuds/weardodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Peter get confronted with themselves and are forced to rethink their current relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...okay... here we go again... ^^
> 
> I know where I want to go with this, but I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to get there yet... 
> 
> I don't have much time bc of RL, so I'll prob. won't be able to update this one as fast as usual (alas =( ), but I promise that I'll try to do my best ^^
> 
> Hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, English is not my native, all mistakes can be put in a flask and thrown out to sea (I'll be sure to look out for them when I'm at the beach)
> 
> -x-

 

 

 

“Are you just going to stand there and be your useless self, or are you actually going to help me, dickface?”

 

Peter just smirks at him without moving an inch, and seriously why does he always have get stuck with that asswipe? Oh yeah, that’s right,  because his life sucks, that’s why.

 

The rest of the pack were all needed – or so they claimed – to keep the shape-shifter captured at the loft.

 

Apparently the creature accidentally came through some sort of magical crack in time – yes, that apparently is possible, and ‘yes’, Stiles will never watch another episode of Dr. Who without taking notes ever again; another perfectly good leisure show ruined forever – and seeing as Stiles is the only ‘Mage’ of the lot, he’s the one who actually has to send the thing back to its own universe. _Yippee._

 

Of course they didn’t want to leave Stiles doing all his mumbo jumbo alone, so they send the most useless pack-member with him to keep him safe. _Peter_. Fucking creepy uncle Peter. He really needs new friends.

 

“’Be the spark, Stiles’, ‘We need you, Stiles’,” he mutters mockingly with a voice that doesn’t even resembles Deaton’s, but whatever.

 

He focuses on the circle he just laid out while throwing in some herbs and other stuff of which Stiles really doesn’t even want to know what it is or where it came from (it looks creepy and undefined and Stiles rather keeps it very undefined – he has enough nightmares as it is, thank you very much).

 

With everything in place, and Peter still leaning against a tree while cleaning his own nails with an elongated claw – seriously, that man desperately needs a hobby –, Stiles gets out the crumpled-up pieces of paper that have the spell scribbled on (what? Those books are heavy!) and starts the chant.

 

While he’s chanting a wind starts to blow and suddenly a storm accompanied with lightning fills the sky, and _seriously_ could it get any more cliché?  When he’s done with the spell, the herbs and other ingredient in the circle catch fire and burn to black dust within moments. The wind settles and the sky opens up, and Stiles releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

 

Okay, that’s it, that should’ve done it. He turns around to face Peter, and weirdly enough Peter has taken up another tree to lean against, one much further away, and Stiles quirks up an eyebrow at that.

 

Why would Peter distance himself from him? It wasn’t _that_ big of a spell. Okay, it took a lot of energy and he’s feeling like he could sleep for days, but it’s not like Stiles just opened the gates of hell and summoned the demons and – _oh_.

 

Suddenly the sight of the ingredients catching fire flashes through his head and he bites his bottom lip while looking pensively at the ground.

 

He shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t, but somehow he feels a little shitty about not having warned the man who has lost his entire family in a fire ánd had half his face burned off in said fire – okay, and practically got burned to death for a second time thanks to Stiles, but let’s not dwell on minor details here –  that this particular spell would involve a small amount of fire.

 

“Are you done?” Peter suddenly startles him out of his thoughts.

 

“Um, yeah – yeah, we’re done, we just need to clean this shit up a bit, and then –”

 

The sound of his phone cuts him off and he looks at the screen while holding up a hand at Peter as if to say ‘wait a sec’. Peter rolls his eyes at the sky in annoyance and lets himself lean back against a tree again.

 

It’s Scott, probably to tell him the good news and he could really do with some good news these days, so he picks up.

 

“Hey Scotty, tell me how awesome I am!” There’s a small pause at the other end, which doesn’t bode well, and Stiles can feel the smile on his face faltering.

 

“Ehm, Stiles? You and Peter’d better get back to the loft.” There’s something not quite right about Scott’s tone of voice, he sounds _off_ , like he’s worried or embarrassed or _something_ , and Stiles definitely doesn’t like the sound of it.

 

“Why? What’s wrong? Scott? It did work, right, I mean the evil shape-shifter’s gone, ‘team Hale and McCall for the win, yay!’, right?” Scott is eerily silent and suddenly Stiles is starting to feel a little nervous.

 

“God please tell me it worked, I honestly don’t think I could stand another day within close proximity of Uncle Asshole Incarnated over here.”

 

Peter actually looks a little insulted at Stiles’ description of him, and Stiles can’t help but scrunch up his nose and stick out his tongue at the man – he’s just that mature sometimes – before turning his back to Peter and waiting for Scott to finally reply.

 

“No – no, it worked Stiles, there’s just something – Look, could you just please come to the loft as soon as you can?” Okay, Stiles is now definitely worried, but he can also sense that Scott is not going to tell him what’s up over the phone, so.

 

“Yeah – yeah, sure buddy, we’ll be there as fast as we can.” And just like that, Scott hangs up, leaving a confused Stiles staring at his phone until he hears someone clearing his throat behind him, making him shake his head and turn around.

 

Peter’s standing there holding out a hand, looking a little impatient.

 

“What?”

 

“The keys, Glinda,” Peter sighs while impatiently moving his hand.

 

“Wha – No. I’m not letting you drive my Jeep!” because seriously, he’s seen Peter drive and his Betty doesn’t need that kind of abuse.

 

“And I’m not getting into a car-crash because my designated driver is falling asleep behind the wheel, so cough it up.”

 

Okay, so Peter does have a point, he _does_ feel drained and his head _is_ a bit fuzzy. _Damn_.

 

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared,” he mockingly coos as he digs up his keys and throws them to the older werewolf who catches them with ease.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t, but this shirt is brand-new and I’d really like to keep it tear-free for more than a day,” Peter retorts with a dry tone of voice while walking away.

 

Stiles quickly follows suit while making strangling-movements with his hands behind Peter’s back.

 

“Oh, that’s mature.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

+++

 

They get there in record-time because apparently stop-signs don’t exist in Peter’s world.

 

They get into the elevator, and Peter being Peter makes the most out of their time in a confined space to annoy Stiles by standing just a bit too close, making Stiles having to elbow him repeatedly to get him to move until the doors open.

 

Stiles nearly has a heart-attack when the doors open and Scott is standing right in front of them, looking pretty nervous and worried.

 

“Djesus, what the fuck, Scott, I nearly had a out-of-body experience,” he jokingly says as he tries to get out of the elevator. ‘Tries’, because he only gets so far as Scott is practically blocking him, making Peter bump into his back. He glances back towards Peter, giving the man  a snarl, before turning back to Scott.

 

“Okay, dude, now you’re starting to scare me, what the fuck is going on?”

 

Scott is clearly trying to purposefully block his view while Stiles lets his eyes roam the part of the loft that he actually _can_ see.

 

Isaac is standing in a corner, shoulders hunched, looking at his shoes and blushing like a schoolgirl.

 

Lydia and Derek are standing with their arms crossed and their backs towards each-other a few feet apart. They look pissed, no ‘fuming’.

 

Allison is sitting in the window-sill, flopping her legs back and forth with a big smug smile plastered on her face.

 

He can’t see what it is that’s Scott’s trying to block from his view and it’s starting to piss him off.

 

“Look, Stiles, before I let you in, I just want you to know that we will fix this, okay, we will find a way to fix this,” Scott places his hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes while making his promise.

 

He looks at him with some sort of pity and Stiles has now definitely had enough, so he pushes Scott away and walks into the loft.

 

The whole pack turn their heads in unison towards him and Peter, looking shocked and expectant, as if waiting for a bomb to drop, and that’s when Stiles turns his head towards the couch and he instantly starts to feel nauseous and lightheaded.

 

Right there, sitting on the blue velvet couch, is none other than Peter Hale, casually leaning back against the back-cushion, and right there, sitting sideways on Peter’s lap, arm around the man and clearly all comfortable and cozy, he sees himself, smiling right at him.

 

“Wha – I – But – ” he manages to get out while turning around towards Peter – who’s standing right behind him! –  with a raised hand and a pointing finger before his limbs turn limp and the world suddenly turns black.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“God what a horrible nightmare,” he mumbles as he sees the white light behind his eyelids intensify and he carefully starts to blink. His sight gets into focus and he sees Scott’s worried face hovering above him, and _no fucking way_.

 

“Oh my god,” He mutters while running a hand across his face. “Scott, please tell me it was all just a nightmare?” But Scott just raises his eyebrows and looks at him apologetically before glancing away.

 

He scrambles to his feet too fast and a sudden head-rush makes him feel dizzy. He would’ve fallen backwards if it wasn’t for the two strong hands on his shoulders steadying him. He mutters a ‘thanks’ while turning around, only to see just who it is that’s helping him and he jolts out of the touch as if he just got burned.

 

“Get your paws away from me, you creep,” he sneers at Peter, and Peter retrieves his hands while looking away with a tiring sigh.

 

Dusting of some non-existent dust from his pants, he shakes his limbs a bit before looking around. Even though they’re clearly standing in a large half-circle around him, they are  all avoiding eye-contact, save for Scott and Peter.

 

He really doesn’t want to see it, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, so he slowly turns his gaze towards the couch, and ‘yup’, there they are, definitely not a fragment of his imagination, him and Peter being all snug with each-other.

 

He wants to turn away, he desperately does not want to see this, but somehow he can’t stop looking. Well, that is until he sees his other self caressing Other!Peter’s cheek before leaning in and…

 

“Oh my god! No! No no no, no no. Nope!” he exclaims loudly while rushing over to the couch, flapping his arms and hands through the air in a dismissive motion. “No kissing, not here, not now, not ever!”

 

“You,” he says while pointedly jabbing a finger in Other!Stiles’ direction. “What the hell is the matter with you? Are you insane!?”

 

Other!Stiles looks at his pointing finger while quirking up an eyebrow – and to be honest, watching himself do that is actually pretty fucking weird.

 

“No,” Other!Stiles says drily. “But you clearly are.”

 

Both Peter and Other!Peter chuckle at that simultaneously and Stiles really wants to curl up into a ball an lay in his bed until this whole nightmare just goes away.

 

The sight of Other!Peter caressing his – well, technically ‘other-him’s –  thigh as if was the most normal thing in the world is definitely becoming too much for his brain to process right now, so he turns around.

 

Alas, that sight isn’t much better, seeing as it confronts him not only with a Scott that looks like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself – and _yeah_ , that makes two of them – but also with Peter, who is staring at the couch as if enjoying the scene at hand until he notices Stiles’ judging eyes on him.

 

Peter just shrugs while turning his gaze to the floor and Stiles has had enough.

 

“Okay, that’s it, we’re fixing this, _now!_ Scott?” He narrows his eyes at Peter one last time, trying to shoot daggers at the man through pure force of his will, but of course it doesn’t work. _Darn_.

 

“Already on it,” Scott replies while turning to walk away with his phone at his ear. You see, _that_ is why Scott is his best friend.

 

“And you,” he glares at the rest of them while letting his finger go around judgingly. “You’ve all been acting strange, even under the circumstances, which are pretty freaking insane, but still… I want answers.”

 

Derek and Lydia look briefly at each-other before snarling and turning around with a huff, while Isaac looks at the ground as if he’s praying for it to open up so that he can disappear. Allison just sniggers, still looking a bit smug, and suddenly his attention is caught by someone clearing their throat.

 

He turns around to the couch, only to see himself looking back at him with a knowingly smirk, Other!Peter still casually functioning as his chair and looking at Other!Stiles as if he’s looking at something beautiful and Stiles can feel how his own ears are starting to turn red. He briefly glances over to Peter, who is looking right back at him, they both quickly turn away when their eyes meet.

 

“I think I can help you with that,” Other!Stiles suddenly opts with a smile.

 

“Oh, how wonderful,” Stiles deadpans, but he spreads his hands as if to say ‘fire away’ anyway. After all, he really is dead-curious.

 

+++

 

“Okay, so wait, in your Universe, Derek and Lydia are an item, but Lydia also has a thing with Cora?”

 

“Yup, but not like simultaneously and all incestuous of course, ‘cause that would be gross,” Other!Stiles scrunches up his nose at the thought and Stiles can’t help but snort at that.

 

“Yeah, because me and Peter, that’s not gross at all…”

 

“Hey – ” Other!Stiles wants to protest, but he gets caught off by Peter, who’s been casually leaning against the desk with his arms and ankles crossed, also listening to Other!Stiles’ explanation.

 

“You know, Stiles, I’m getting rather sick of your constant childish whining,” Peter growls.

 

“You’re getting sick?” Stiles responds in utter disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? You must be kidding right now. I’d like to remind you that I’m the one who is being violated by your twin over there, you Dawn of the Dead Extra!”

 

“It amazes me how you seem to think that I enjoy watching _you_ getting all up in _me,_ you selfish little shit.” And wow, Peter actually sounds venomous, like Stiles’ words actually hit a nerve, and somehow the sound of that is making Stiles’ stomach turn.

 

“You’re not – I don’t – Okay, fine! So we’re both fucked here!”

 

Other!Stiles and Other!Peter both snigger at that, and when Stiles and Peter both turn towards them with a snarl Other!Stiles just holds up his hands apologetically.

 

“Sorry, but it’s just so funny to watch from afar,” Other!Stiles offers while still softly snorting, and Other!Peter just huffs out a laugh while briefly shaking his head in amazement.

 

“What? What’s so funny?” Stiles can’t help but ask, briefly exchanging a look with Peter who looks just as confused.

 

“You two – ,” Other!Stiles says while trying to control his laughter. “You two sound exactly like us just before we have hot make-up s– ”

 

“Okay, shh! Stop it right there! I do not, I repeat, _I do not_ under any circumstances want to ever, _ever_ , know how that sentence ends, okay? Okay. Thank you.”

 

He can feel his face flushing red while he looks at the floor. He can’t look at anyone right now, because this whole thing is just embarrassing the hell out of him.

 

The thought of him still being a virgin in this Universe while apparently in some Parallel Universe he’s been having frequent sex with some hot guy is something he does not want to think about right now – and yes, he knows that objectively speaking Peter’s a hot guy, he isn’t blind.

 

He knows that Peter and him always snark and banter, but he never in a million years would’ve classified it as possible foreplay, and thanks to that evil bastard – and yes, he grants himself the right to call himself an _evil bastard_ – the thought is unleashed and he knows damn well that something like _that_ can never be undone, and _fuck!_

 

He turns towards Peter, careful to avoid the man’s eyes.

 

“This is all your fault,” he whispers.

 

It comes out uncertain and to be honest just plain pathetic, but he needs something to say and someone to blame and Peter is right there, so.

 

“Sure it is,” Peter retorts with a sigh and leaves it at that – for which Stiles is actually pretty grateful.

 

“Okay,” he takes in a deep breath. “So, Lydia and Derek, I can sorta get that… ”

 

Both Derek ánd Lydia growl at him simultaneously, and _yep,_ Lydia would definitely win in the scary department – which somehow doesn’t surprise him one bit.

 

“… and Isaac with Scott and Allison,” he continues. “I can also see _that_ , I mean, it wouldn’t be that weird if that ought to happen in this Universe.”

 

Allison and Isaac share a brief glance at that, both blushing and grinning at the ground. It makes Stiles wonder when that part of the parallel pairings is actually going to become synchronous, which in turn makes him wonder if Scott would go for a guy. _Hm, now there’s some food for thought…_

 

He shakes himself out of it and continues.

 

“…But me and Peter?” he says while pointing between him and Peter. “No way, that’s just – No way, that is so far out of the realm of actual possibilities, just no.”

 

“Well, I certainly didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Other!Peter purrs – actually purrs! – into Other!Stiles’ neck, who in turn starts to display a very meaningful grin.

 

Stiles just stares at them with his mouth hanging agape, a limp finger in the air as if wanting to say something, but his brain is currently malfunctioning. Thank god, that’s the exact moment that Scott chooses to return to the party.

 

“Dude, thank god, please tell me you have some good news?”

 

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some um, bad news,” Scott nearly whispers those last words, making Stiles flinch.

 

“Good news is, this can totally be fixed, they,” he flaps his hand towards Other!Peter and Other!Stiles. “They somehow accidentally got sucked into the time-crack at the moment the shape-shifter got pulled in, and all we need to do is open it up again so we can send them back…”

 

“Yes, okay, I kinda figured as much, and now for the bad news?” Stiles narrows his eyes at his best friend who has started fumbling with his hands, and Stiles does not like the sight of that.

 

“Well – The bad news – ” Scott stalls. “The bad news is that Deaton doesn’t have more of the necessary ingredients and it’s going to take some time for him to get them together,” he blurts in one breath.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles sighs while dragging a hand across his face. “Okay, okay, no biggie, how much time are we talking about here?”

 

Scott stays silent, looking at his feet.

 

“Scott? How much time? A day?”

 

“Ehm, a few days, maybe a, um, maybe a week?”

 

“A week! Oh my god, what the hell are we supposed to do with them for a week, Scott?!”

 

He’s suddenly starting to feel very tired, and he feels himself automatically walking to the nearest surface to lean against. He really couldn’t care less right now that that surface is the desk that Peter is also currently leaning against.

 

Scott is still looking really uncomfortable, actually biting the corner of his bottom-lip, and Stiles wishes he doesn’t know his best friend through and through, because he knows that look and it never bodes well.

 

“What else?” he sighs sounding beaten. Things can’t possibly get any worse than this.

 

Scott takes a deep breath.

 

“Deaton said it was of the utmost importance that you and Peter keep your other selves close, because else it could compromise things in both this Universe and theirs…”

 

Things can apparently get worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Problems aside.... here's the next part ;)
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> x

 

 

“Okay, everybody out except for you two,” he points at the couch where Other!Stiles has removed himself from Other!Peter’s lap and is now sitting shoulder to shoulder with the older man while rubbing a hand on the man’s thigh. So okay, it still looks freaky, but at least there’s no butt-rubbing going on, so Stiles’ll take it.

 

Derek, Lydia, Isaac, Allison and Scott have all been quietly watching how Stiles has been having a minor – okay, maybe it was major – breakdown and he’s had enough of their pitying looks. He needs to think and he can’t think with sympathetic eyes making him feel even more uncomfortable about this than he already does.

 

Luckily the fact that they feel for him makes them follow his demand to leave without any complaints or resistance. Scott does waver a bit, asking if he’s sure he’ll be okay, but Stiles just waves him off telling him he’ll be fine.

 

It’s a lie, he doesn’t know if he’ll be fine, but if they’re going to make this work he needs a plan, and that means he needs the people directly involved, and _only_ the people directly involved, meaning both tweedledee and tweedledum.

 

And Peter, who has casually started to stroll towards the elevator with the rest of them.

 

“Hold up, Zed, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

 

Peter’s shoulders raise as if being caught in the act before he turns around with a sigh.

 

“I was thinking of a nice warm bath and maybe a facial scrub?”

 

“Oh I’ll scrub your face right off if you don’t sit the fuck down, you’re not leaving me alone with these two!” He’s pissed, and Peter knows it, because although he rolls his eyes in annoyance, he starts walking towards the couch and sits down next to Other!Stiles – and okay, so that sight is pretty fucking weird.

 

Stiles looks at the couch with his arms crossed, looking at Peter, Stiles, and Peter again, the three of them sitting there looking at him, and this is weird. Pretty. Fucking. Weird.

 

“Well,” Peter says with a vexed sigh, “amaze us with your keen insights.” Stiles narrows an eye at the man for that, but he’s letting this one slide, after all, there are more pressing matters at hand than a snark-fest right now.

 

“Okay, so, Peter goes with Peter and Stiles comes with me, and then in a few days you can all go home and I can forget this nightmare ever happened, _capisce_?”

 

“Ehm, yeah, that’s not gonna work,” Other!Stiles interrupts, and seriously, does he have to be a pain in the ass even to himself? Stiles sighs, offering the palm of his hand as if to say ‘okay, give it to me, why isn’t this going to work’.

 

“We can’t be separated like that,” Other!Stiles and Other!Peter look at each-other in a way that makes Stiles want to remind them that…

 

“Hey, no kissing!” Other!Peter looks at Stiles like he’s annoyed, and seeing as Peter is still looking exactly like that – very much annoyed even – there are now two Peters sitting on the couch, looking at him with exactly the same expression, with Other!Stiles in the middle – looking a bit pissed – and the sight is making Stiles want to curl up into a ball and cry.

 

“I so did not sign up for this,” he whimpers while leaning back on the desk while rolling his eyes at the sky in despair.

 

“Djesus, do I always whine like that?” Other!Stiles asks Peter, and Peter actually snorts at that. The bastard.

 

“Oh no, this,” Peter replies while gesturing towards Stiles, “this is just the tip of the ice-berg.”

 

“Oh wow, no wonder you two aren’t fucking…” Other!Stiles notes, earning a snort from Other!Peter and a death-glare from both Peter and Stiles.

 

“O- _kay_ , rubbed a sore spot there… But that doesn’t change the fact that me and Peter don’t sleep in separate beds, so yeah, no can do, sorry.”

 

“Well tough,” Stiles snaps. To himself. _Yup_ , still really fucking weird.

 

“You know, I have a spare bedroom, and a couch…” Peter interrupts, and _no._

 

“Nope, no, not happening, I am not letting my other self get all cozy with tweedledee-creeper over there, and I’m definitely not entering Peter Hale’s House of Horrors by my own free will. No. Not happening, not today, not yesterday, not ever. Period.”

 

All three people on the couch sigh and Stiles _really_ wants to curl up in that ball right about now, because _this_ , this is just too much to handle for a seventeen year old kid, especially for someone like Stiles.

 

“Fine,” all three suddenly huff in unison, and Stiles lets out a sigh of his own.

 

 

+++

 

 

So, Peter took Other!Peter home and he took Other!Stiles home, but not before informing his dad – leaving out the fact that apparently he and the older Hale had hooked up in another Universe of course – , and yeah, let’s just say he’s glad his dad knows about the Beacon Hills Sorority of Weird, because this would’ve been quite a strain to explain or hide otherwise.

 

He and Other!Stiles are sitting at the kitchen-table, when the front door opens and his dad walks in. Suddenly Other!Stiles lights up and before his dad even has a chance to walk into the kitchen, Other!Stiles is on his feet and literally flies at the man’s neck with tears in his eyes.

 

“Dad!” he exclaims, and John shortly looks a bit surprised before returning the tight hug and raising an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles returns the look, because he initially has no idea why Other!Stiles would get so emotional for seeing his father.

 

“I missed you so much,” Other!Stiles says while looking the man up and down.

 

“Care to explain?” his dad asks while patting Other!Stiles’ back, and yeah, Stiles would love an explanation himself. Although, he somehow feels like he has an idea of why his other self would react like that, so he just shrugs and tries to leave it that.

 

“Come on, let’s get ready for bed,” he says instead of pressing the matter, and Other!Stiles just sniffs and nods, before saying goodnight and following him upstairs.

 

“When did he die?” he asks the moment they’re inside his room.

 

“A year ago,” Other!Stiles instantly provides. “Funny thing is, it had nothing to do with all this supernatural shit or with high cholesterol, it was just a work-incident,” Other!Stiles hops down onto his bed, eyes still glazed-over. “Just some stupid robbery gone bad, and well, you know dad…”

 

And yes, Stiles knows his father, he knows he would always try to protect others even if that meant, well…

 

“Peter was there for me you know,” Other!Stiles looks at him pointedly, ”when everybody was treating me like glass, he just treated me like I was real. I know everybody else meant well, but that was _so_ not what I needed back then, and Peter, he never looked at me with pity, he was always just this sort of constant in my life, you know?”

 

And even though he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, he thinks he can understand what Other!Stiles means. Peter is someone who would never treat him like some weak breakable human when something like that would happen, he never has.

 

Scott might change, Derek might change, his relationship with Lydia might’ve changed, but Peter will always be Peter, someone who would never pity him, that’s one certainty he’ll always have.

 

He throws a T-shirt at his other self, and tells him it’s time to go to sleep.

 

They lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, and Stiles just can’t help but wonder…

 

“How did it happen? You and Peter I mean?”

 

Other!Stiles turns to his side and looks at him.

 

“Did he offer it to you? The wrist-bite?”

 

“Well, yeah,” he says slightly confused, “but what does that have to do with – ”

 

“Well,” Other!Stiles cuts him off, “I didn’t want to be a werewolf, but I knew what else it meant, so…”

 

“So..? So what? What does it mean?”

 

“If you don’t know, then it’s really not my place to tell,” Other!Stiles says before turning around.

 

“Good Night.”

 

“Yeah… ‘night”

 

+++

 

 

He wakes up early to the feeling of almost falling out of bed and when he blinks his eyes open and looks over to his other side he sees Other!Stiles laying half on top Other!Peter.

 

He literally falls out of bed, because _what the fuck?_

 

He scrambles to his feel only to see Peter casually lounging in his desk-chair, and _seriously?_

 

“Djesus Christ, Peter!? you were supposed to keep him _and yourself_ at your house! Fuck!”

 

“What can I say, I can be quite ‘persuasive’,” Peter offers with a shrug.

 

Other!Stiles moves a bit, while sighing.

 

“Told you we don’t sleep in separate beds,” he sleepily says into Other!Peter’s chest, and Stiles has really had enough.

 

“Oh for the love of – Fine! I’ll tell my dad we’re staying at Scott’s for a few days.”

 

Other!Stiles and Other!Peter just smile without opening their eyes while letting out a content little ‘hm’.

 

Stiles looks at them briefly before turning to Peter.

 

“I hate you,” he intently tells the man.

 

“Lie,” Other!Peter notes while pulling Other!Stiles closer, and Stiles can’t help but growl as he tries to pull out his own hair.

 

His life officially sucks.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just blurted out another little chapter to keep things going.
> 
> Hope you like it ^^ 
> 
> -x-

 

 

He packed enough stuff to last him four days, because he doesn’t think his mind could manage the prospect of packing for more than that, and he notified Scott of the plan. He made sure he parked his Jeep near Scott’s house, just in case. Peter followed him with Other!Peter and Other!Stiles so that he could change cars for their drive up to Peter’s apartment.

 

They enter the two-bedroom apartment and Stiles flings his bag in the corner next to the door before taking in his new surroundings.

 

Peter’s apartment isn’t huge, but it’s definitely spacious. The living-area has a big comfy-looking couch with an equally comfy-looking armchair. The furniture is well-lived, mostly antiques, and it all actually looks really warm and home-y.

 

To be honest, it’s not what Stiles expected at all, but then again, he’s been having that a lot lately: things not being what he expected.

 

The living-room has an open-plan kitchen attached to it, dividing the two spaces with a little bar-area. The wall opposite the front-door contains two large oak bookcases, fully filled with mostly very old looking books, and Stiles would lie if he said the sight of it didn’t make his hands itch. He’s definitely going to be rummaging through those books in the next couple of days.

 

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Peter subtly clearing his throat.

 

“I’ll show you the bathroom and get you a towel and some blankets and pillows,” the man says while walking towards the dark hallway.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Stiles says a little hesitant before following Peter and Other!Stiles and Other!Peter into the hallway. This is all still so fucking surreal.

 

He watches Other!Stiles and Other!Peter disappearing in the room at the end of the hall, while Peter walks into one of the rooms on the right. He doesn’t know why, but he blindly follows the man inside.

 

Apparently it’s Peter’s bedroom, and like the rest of the house, it looks normal, cozy even. It has a king-sized bed in the middle of the back-wall with a bedside table on either side and the wall opposite the window contains a large closet with mirrored doors.

 

Next to the closet is a doorway leading into an ensuite and Stiles watches how Peter walks into it briefly before returning with a towel and a washcloth, handing them over to him.

 

“Thanks,” Stiles says with a small voice. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he somehow can’t help but add while looking at the small pile in his hands. After all, he’s going to be living with the man for a couple of days, they somehow have to make it work without tearing each-other apart.

 

“It’s home,” Peter shrugs while brushing past Stiles and walking into the hallway again.

 

“Bathroom is the second door on the left, our other guests are occupying the guest-room at the end, you can eat and drink whatever’s around, but we do need to go grocery shopping soon,” Peter pauses like he’s trying to go over a list in his head to see if he covered all the basics before he turns around and faces Stiles.

 

“You can go back to the living-room, watch tv or eat or whatever it is you teenagers like to do these days that doesn’t involve sex or drugs, and I’ll grab you those blankets and pillows.”

 

+++

 

He’s been tossing and turning for a while now, and it’s not that Peter’s couch isn’t a comfortable place to sleep, it definitely is, it’s just that he can’t make his brain to shut down.

 

He looks over to the wall-clock in the kitchen and isn’t surprised to see it’s two-thirty. _Great._

 

He’s thinking about his and Peter’s alter-ego snuggling close together, with each-other, and he wonders how something like that could’ve ever happened. And probably the worst part of it is, even though he really wants to believe that something like that – him and Peter – is so far out of realm of possibilities that he can’t even imagine it, it’s not, and that fact bothers him.

 

He knows damn well that he and the older werewolf have some things in common, that they would be compatible in some weird sense. And _yes_ , he knows damn well that Peter is really good looking. If things would’ve been different, if the things that happened in the last few years happened differently, he would’ve probably high-fived himself for hooking up with the man, but he can’t erase the past.

 

Peter tried to kill him, tried to kill his friends and almost drove the love of his life over the edge of insanity. You can’t just forgive and forget something like that now can you?

 

He’s staring at the ceiling when suddenly he hears some indistinct sounds coming from the hallway.

 

How wonderful, his alter-ego is probably having sex with Peter’s alter-ego right now. He not jealous or anything, he just really wished he didn’t have to be in the same house as them when they’re doing it. He really doesn’t need to be confronted with shit like that right now.

 

He waits for a few more minutes before he’s had enough and he stomps over to the hallway, suddenly stopping when he realizes that the sounds aren’t coming from the room at the end of the hall. They’re coming from Peter’s bedroom.

 

He regains his way slightly confused, tiptoeing until he reaches the door that’s slightly ajar. He peeks inside and watches the figure in bed tossing and turning in the glimmer of the moonlight coming from the window.

 

Peter’s making sounds as if he’s dying, sounding wrecked and petrified, and Stiles doesn’t really know what to do. It’s clear the man’s having some horrible nightmare and he can’t just leave him like this, so he decides it’s probably best to wake him.

 

He silently walks into the room until he’s standing next to the bed, Peter still seemingly fighting for his life, making sounds that’ll most likely hunt Stiles’ own dreams for a while.

 

“Peter?” he asks carefully. After all, he doesn’t feel much for a werewolf suddenly going all crazy on his ass and ripping out his throat in a fit of sleepy confusion. He just as carefully rests his hand on the man’s arm, gently shaking it a bit.

 

“Hey, Peter, you need to wake up dude, you’re having a nightmare,” he shakes his arm again, a little firmer this time, but Peter doesn’t wake up and is still writhing and fighting against invisible demons.

 

Stiles used to have nightmares when he was younger, and he also remembers what his mom used to do to make him fall back into a peaceful sleep, but… He looks down at the man’s face again, sweat beading on his forehead and terror clear in his features.

 

“Oh fuck it,” he mutters with resignation while sitting down on the side of the bed and leaning in, holding Peter into a comforting hug while whispering soothing words like ‘it’s okay’ and ‘shh, everything’s fine’.

 

It helps, because of course it does, and Peter’s rough movements and sounds starts to fade out and he starts to relax, falling into a deep and silent sleep again.

 

Stiles gets up and watches the man’s relaxing state briefly before quickly tiptoeing back to the couch.

 

He falls asleep almost immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long update-wait... I've been dealing with quite a lot in RL with little to no time to spare to write *sad face*... I haven't read this small chapter over, so it's bound to contain lots of mistakes... =/  
> I wanted to continue posting anyway, even without time and 100% focus on good English language and vocab...

 

 

It’s around six in the morning when he wakes up to the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. He knows that if it’s either Peter or Other!Peter that they already know he’s awake, so he tosses the blanket to his feet and throws his legs from the couch.

 

He yawns as he gets up and stretches before turning around and walking to the kitchen. He can already see it’s Peter standing hunched over the sink, leaning on his hands. The man looks tired and worn and Stiles feels something dropping in his gut, a feeling of sympathy he really doesn’t want to deal with right now. He wants to reach out, let his hand rest at the man’s shoulder, but he quickly decides against it.

 

_This is Peter Hale, not someone who deserves his sympathy._

 

“Got tired of your coffin?” he says instead and Stiles knows it’s probably too early to snark at the man, but everything’s better than thinking or talking about last night. Peter probably doesn’t even remember what happened, that Stiles actually hold him through his night-terror, and there’s really no need to ever bring it up.

 

He doesn’t really care that Peter is being tortured by nightmares. He doesn’t. After all, Peter made sure Stiles had very particular nightmares of his own and he’s definitely willing to look at this as some kind of karma-thing.

 

“You know, I could just trade you for your twin, the one I can currently hear getting fucked by my other self?” the older werewolf says into the sink.

 

Okay, so that was a low blow, but he has to hand it to the man, that was a good comeback. Especially for so early in the morning. Even Stiles isn’t awake enough to have his full game on, but he’s also not about to back out of a challenge.

 

“Oh yes, let’s,” he snarks back with exaggeration, “at least then I’m not a virgin anymore and I get fucked on a regular base by a hot guy!”

 

He hears his own words echoing in his head as he slowly realizes what he just said.

 

_Fuck!_

 

Peter’s shoulders visibly tensed up at Stiles’ words and Stiles is just thankful that Peter is still seemingly inspecting the sink-drain instead of looking directly at him, because he might’ve gone into a full-blown panic attack if he had.

 

“I mean – I – okay, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean – ” Oh to hell with it, Peter knows what he looks like.

 

“For fuck’s sake, you know damn well that you look good, _objectively_ ,” he spews, almost chewing on that last word before literally spitting it out, letting the man know just how much giving in to something like _that_ disgusts him, before walking towards the hallway. He desperately needs to hide his embarrassingly flushing face, and the bathroom seems like the safest place to go right now.

 

Peter doesn’t say anything as he leaves (thank god!) and he manages to sneak into the bathroom without coming across any of the other inhabitants of Peter Hale’s lair. He splashes some cool water in his face and looks at himself in the mirror.

 

“Seriously, what the hell is my life right now?” he mutters to his reflection. The sound of the door being opened startles him and he curses himself for forgetting to lock the door after he came in.

 

 Other!Stiles steps into the relatively spacious bathroom and they stare at each-other through the mirror for a few seconds before Stiles can feel the questions rapidly accumulating in his brain.

 

“Do you know what they are? The nightmares? Does he have them with you too – in your Universe I mean?” He turns around, away from the mirror, to face himself (which sounds a little too Magritte to fully process right now, even in Stiles’ head).

 

Other!Stiles looks at him with a pensive expression, one that he recognizes as the one he always uses when his mind is rambling in overdrive.

 

“He used to have them,” Other!Stiles finally says. “They’re memories. Of everything that happened, you know, with the fire. He lives through it all again and again every night.”

 

Stiles watches how his other self scratches the back of his head while looking at Stiles’ feet. There is one question burning on Stiles’ tongue and Other!Stiles knows it.

 

“When did he stop having them?”

 

Other!Stiles lets out a sigh, a clear indication that he indeed already knew what Stiles would want to ask, something which he no doubt himself would’ve asked too if he were in Stiles’ position.

 

Suddenly Other!Stiles cocks his head up and locks eyes with Stiles, a small, crooked, knowingly smile appearing on his face.

 

“You already know when,” Other!Stiles answers smugly before turning around and walking away, leaving a gaping Stiles behind.

 

_That little shit!_

 

Stiles knew damn well that Other!Stiles knows that Stiles knows that his answer could mean several things. _Fuck._

 

 

+++

 

 

“Bad night?” Other!Peter smirks into his coffee, and Peter really hates his own character right now.

 

“You would know,” he retorts with a snarl, but Other!Peter just chuckles into his cup again.

 

“What?” Peter practically barks at his own smug face.

 

“I still can’t believe you two are so utterly clueless… No wait, that’s a lie… I actually cán believe that Stiles is this clueless, but _you_? I can’t believe I can be this oblivious, it’s embarrassing to watch.”

 

Peter can feel his hands tightening on the counter, his knuckles whitening at the points of pressure.

 

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Sure you don’t,” Other!Peter chuckles in his coffee and Peter feels like punching his own face into submission. It’s a weird realization, but he can’t handle his own remarks when they’re directed towards himself, it feels like an instant challenge, a battle he doesn’t feel like fighting so early in the morning.

 

 _Stiles always feels like an instant challenge too_ , his mind provides out of thin air and he has to shake his head at the thought.

 

“Did you offer it to him?” Other!Peter asks casually but smug before taking another sip of his coffee. Peter knows what he’s talking about, but thinking about the dual emotions last night left him to deal with, he’s not in the mood to get into this conversation right now, so he decides to play it dumb.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Other!Peter starts to snigger into his cup again, shaking his head pityingly before walking off to his room – ‘their’ room, _the room where he and Stiles snuggle up to each-other, where they kiss and fuck each-other, because thát’s what he and Stiles do in another Universe._

 

This is definitely one of the few times that he mourns the fact that he can hear and smell things that humans can’t hear and smell.

 

He doesn’t want to think about _those_ kind of feelings. He doesn’t want to relive _any_ feelings that make the memories of _them_ too vibrant. He doesn’t want to relive the memories of the people he loved most in his life. The happiness he once felt, while knowing in detail where those memories end.

 

The smell of smoke and burnt flesh, the sounds of the people he loved dying right in front of him while _he_ couldn’t save them…

 

Of course he knows what Other!Peter was talking about, what his own insanity made him forget for a short amount of time the moment he offered Stiles the bite. He knows exactly what it is he offered, and he intended to never let anyone – especially Stiles – in on this little bit of knowledge.

 

_His guests are definitely going to provide a small unaccounted problem in that respect._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... 
> 
> I'd like to thank Dannielle (laughatthegirl-wholovedtooeasily) for helping me months ago when I first got struck with writers-block. I don't think I would've ever been able to pick up this story again without your help, so thank you! <3

 

 

It took him more time than he initially anticipated to get himself together enough to finally exit the bathroom, but when he did his alter-ego was seemingly patiently slumped down against the wall next to the door. He watched as Other!Stiles calmly fidgeted with a loose tread of his T-shirt and it still felt kind of weird to see his own little private habits mirrored back at him like that.

 

Before he had any time to really let the weirdness of the whole display sink in, Other!Stiles hopped to his feet with a bright smile plastered on his face and patted down some invisible dust from his pants.

 

“Ready?”

 

Despite not feeling ready at all, Stiles nods and they synchronously start to walk towards the living-room.

 

There are definitely some bad jokes to be made about this bitter situation, like, he’d probably laugh about this whole mess some day, but he really wants to wait until the Universe makes sense again before letting his mind wander in that direction.

 

When they enter the living-room, both Peter’s are hovering over the cooking-area, silently baking eggs and what smells like bacon. The smell of buttered toast is being overruled by the smell of a fresh pot of coffee that’s brewing on the other end of the counter.

 

He _so_ desperately needs coffee right now.

 

Taking a seat next to Other!Stiles at the bar dividing the kitchen-area from the living-room he watches how the two Peter’s work in unison, how they’ve even started to hum an almost frivolous sounding tune in the process.

 

The scene at hand comes across as slightly disturbing. Hell, it comes across as _extremely_ disturbing.

 

“You know,” he mumbles against the arm that protect his face from fully face-planting the countertop, “this,” he pauses to flap his hand in the general direction of the two men, “this is probably going to hunt my nightmares for years to come.” The words come out muffled, but he knows both older werewolves are able to hear his every word.

 

Other!Stiles elbows him in the ribs, clearly indicating his disapproval of Stiles’ rudeness. Apparently dating a werewolf automatically comes with better hearing too. Stiles lets out a high-pitched squeak and jumps up a little but doesn’t move his face from his arms.

 

“Hey! There’s no need to instigate some weird sort of self-flagellation,” he snaps indignantly. “At least not while I’m still caffeine-deprived,” he mutters to the counter in defeat.

 

_Seriously? How is this his life?_

Canting his head upwards a bit, he watches how Peter’s hips do a little barely noticeable hip-sway along with the tune both Peter’s are humming. He wants to look away, he really does, but somehow his mind has other plans as his vision starts to narrow on the older werewolf’s ass. The man has a good ass, Stiles would’ve been blind not to notice and acknowledge that simple fact. It’s round and muscle-y and perky and… _Okay, he needs to stop this right now!_

 

He should be focusing on researching, on trying to find some way to fix this whole mess, not on creepy Peter Hale’s fucking ass!

 

Sighing in inner moral defeat he hides his head in his arms again, willing the unwelcome thoughts of the older Hale’s more appreciable assets to go away.

_Seriously, how did things ever get so fucked up?_

 

Suddenly a wave of fresh coffee fills his nostrils and he whips up his head again so fast he almost sees stars. A big mug of steaming black goodness is standing right in front of him, but when he looks up to see who granted him his wish, all he’s met with is Peter’s back _. He’s definitely NOT looking at the man’s ass, he really isn’t!_ Peter grabs the spatula he obviously set aside to grab Stiles his coffee before he regains his focus on his breakfast-making activities, not giving Stiles even one single glance in acknowledgement.

 

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers with a small voice while cradling the mug with both hands and letting the whiffs of warmth and hot aroma splash against his face in waves. He can see the little upturn in the corner of Peter’s mouth as the man flips a piece of the bacon.

 

+++

 

He could hear the two boy’s approaching the living-room, just as he could hear exactly what they talked about after Stiles disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Okay, so he did, but it’s not Peter’s fault that he’s born curious by nature.

 

He listened to their every word, he listened to Stiles’ heartbeat while they talked about his nightmares – which apparently Stiles now knows about. _He knew he should’ve sound-proofed his bedroom when he moved in._ He listened to the way Stiles almost seemed ‘concerned’ about him, which was obviously a trick of the mind, a distortion created by the amount of walls and distance between him and the bathroom.

 

Cooking breakfast with himself was actually a rather amusing and tranquil activity. Apparently his other self also loved to cook without speaking, humming certain catchy tunes in the process.

 

He’s still not sure if it was a smart move to cook Stiles’ breakfast exactly like he likes it, but seeing as Stiles now also knows something about Peter that he’d rather kept to himself, he figures ‘what the hell’.

 

And besides, it’s not like every werewolf in Stiles’ vicinity wouldn’t be able to know exactly what the kid ate and drank every day.

 

+++

 

Breakfast was… ‘awkward’… to say the least. The fact that Other!Peter knew exactly how Other!Stiles wanted his eggs, bacon and toast wasn’t all that surprising. What was surprising though, is that even while Stiles liked his food differently than his AU-self, Peter apparently knew exactly how Stiles liked it too.

 

He suspiciously looked at the plate in front of him, convinced this must be some kind of trick or something, because there was no way that Peter just cooked him this perfect breakfast without an ulterior motive, it just wasn’t possible.

 

“Did you poison this or something?” he asks while trying to give Peter his best stink-eye and earning another elbow in the ribs from Other!Stiles.

 

“What?” he asks incredulously, “I know you’re probably used to getting pampered by creeper-wolf over there, but this is definitely not how him and I usually roll over here.” Because it really wasn’t and this little morning family get-together felt off, _way off._

 

He was used to him and Peter snarking at each other, wishing each other into an early grave (again), not pretending to be amicable like everything’s just honky-dory and Peter didn’t try to kill his friends (him included) and came back from the dead by almost driving a sixteen year old girl ( the love of Stiles’ life _by the by_ ) insane.

 

Peter actually has the audacity to rolls his eyes at him before taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“Obviously it’s poisoned,” the older man deadpans while looking straight back at him, “and I also threw in a little wolfsbane to really give it a kick.” Peter quirks up an eyebrow and Stiles takes on the challenge of Peter’s staring-contest as they both scoop up a bit of the egg and put it in their mouth simultaneously.

 

The eggs taste absolutely divine, the buttery taste and the structure are just perfect. Stiles is sure Peter must’ve used a full creamy butter and not the usual cooking-crap and he has to try really hard to prevent a moan from escaping his mouth while he closes his eyes. _Damn it!_

 

When he comes down from his food-orgasm high he looks up at the man sitting in front of him on the other side of the bar/counter and even though Peter is looking down at his own plate, he can see the self-satisfied smirk on the older man’s face.

 

“I hate you,” Stiles mutters automatically.

 

“Lie,” Other!Peter and Other!Stiles cough into their fists simultaneously making Stiles want to bang his head against the counter with a groan. What the hell did he do to ever deserve a punishment like this?

 

What bothers him most is that he knows that if Other!Peter can catch him lying about hating Peter, then Peter also knows he’s lying about him hating him. And Stiles used to be sure that it wasn’t a lie, that he really still hated the man for all that he’d done in the past, despite the changes and the way Peter has been trying to prove himself pack- and trustworthy again.

 

_But now?_ Apparently his body is betraying that safe little piece of knowledge, and it makes him wonder. It makes him wonder when exactly his brain decided that he didn’t ‘hate’ the older werewolf anymore and more importantly, _what that meant_.

 

Luckily his thoughts are cut short by the sound of two phones buzzing and beeping, notifying the arrival of text-messages.

 

They’re having a pack-meeting at the loft, discussing the ‘situation’ – although Stiles’d rather not discuss so much as _rectify_ the ‘situation’, but it’s better than doing nothing at all. Deaton will meet them there, which sounds like the most logical and safe way to go, seeing as walking around with a body-double in tow in a small town of which his dad is the town-sheriff doesn’t really sound like the smartest way to keep a low profile right now.


End file.
